Author: ccallenreese
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The chilly water laps at our ankles as we stand close with our foreheads touching. His skin is warm and brown from spending it broiling under the big yellow ball in the sky; he smells lightly of sunscreen, of bug spray, and the lake. I only know his name and he’s from Roxford, about 50…
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The fag hauled all the heaviest supplies two miles from the truck to the camp site where they were to spend the weekend repairin’ fences. It was only fair to the horse, who was already carrying his Sir. Once there, the Master instructed his boy to strip and rinse off in the river. Not only…